


Don't Care What Comes After

by reason_says



Series: Swim or Drown [1]
Category: World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: F/M, Friends to Enemies to Lovers, Kayfabe Compliant, Lovers to enemies to lovers, M/M, Manipulation, Polyamory, Reunions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-31
Updated: 2019-01-31
Packaged: 2019-10-19 16:33:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17604929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reason_says/pseuds/reason_says
Summary: After winning the North American Championship, Johnny thinks he has everything he wants. Unfortunately, there are still a few loose ends to tie up, at home and elsewhere.





	Don't Care What Comes After

**Author's Note:**

> Set after TakeOver: Phoenix.
> 
> Title from Heel Turn 2, by the Mountain Goats.
> 
> Alternate summary by Chuck Taylor, who does not appear in this story:
> 
> Complete sadsack and manipulated wrestler John boy has just won the WWF North American Championship at Next Takeback. His piece of shit former tag team partner, not the one writing this, the even worse one, is still on his mind. Can these two numbskulls get their shit together, or does corn dawg have to knock some sense into them?

After his match.

After his _win_.

After his photo shoot, and after sitting in the locker room staring at the title, _his_ title, that he _earned_.

After Candice, nervous for some reason but still happy for him, sits next to him and rubs his back.

“I’m proud of you, you know I am, but... you might have gone too far. You can win without cheating."

“That wasn’t cheating," he says, confused and still a little dazed, turning the title so it sparkles across his face. “I won, didn’t I? I pinned him, just like I have before.”

“Johnny...” She draws her hand away and he looks up, startled. “You dropped him onto the concrete.”

“Well, yeah, that’s true. I have to admit, I did that.” He’s really not sure why it matters. He won. He did something to help him win, something he never would have considered before. That means he’s growing as a fighter, he can see more options now. He isn’t sure how to articulate that, though. They have this conversation a lot. “That’s still not cheating, though. I wasn’t disqualified, you don’t get disqualified for that. Just like you apparently don’t get disqualified for using someone else’s hold on them, huh?” His shoulder still twinges from Ricochet’s surprisingly effective version of the Gargano Escape, but he needs that arm to hold up his title, so it can’t be helped.

“That’s not... It’s not only cheating if you get disqualified. What you did in the cage... that wasn’t a disqualification either, but it was absolutely cheating.”

No. He shakes his head at that, no, they’ve had this conversation too and he’s not going back to it. “That was one time. You know that, I told you... it’s never gonna happen again, that’s not who I am.”

“But it _did_ happen again. You can’t just say that and make it true, it _keeps_ happening. When you helped each other last week, that wasn’t just a coincidence. It’s a pattern.”

“I… yeah, I know what you mean. But it’s not surprising we work well together, right? We were partners for a long time. Even with everything he did, we still understand each other. If we happen to have the same enemy...” He trails off, shrugging.

“Johnny...” Candice leans her head on his shoulder, but doesn’t put her arm back around him. “I know you think you and he are on the same page now, but a year ago you wouldn’t-- Hell, six _months_ ago you wouldn’t have considered this. I don’t want to go through all that again. He hurt us so much.”

“You’re right. I know, you’re right, he did. But he seems… different lately, doesn’t he?”

“I... don’t know about that,” she says, clearly choosing her words delicately. “He seems like the same old Tommaso to me. I think what’s changed is that you agree with him.”

“Is it so crazy to think that maybe he has a point? That I’ve been losing and losing because I cared more about reactions than wins? I have this title now because I gave it my all, because it mattered more to me than what anyone else thought. He wasn’t wrong about that much, at least.”

“See, this is what I mean. It sounds normal when you say it like that, but you never used to think that way.”

“Then maybe I was wrong before! What I know is, I won tonight. I beat Ricochet, and I have a championship again. Tell me you wouldn’t do anything to be in the title picture, at this point.”

Candice is quiet for a long moment, and he can feel her sigh. “I don’t know what I’d do. A lot. More than I have been, because clearly that’s not cutting it.”

It’s awful to hear her talk like that. She’s done so much, here and elsewhere, and the opportunities just aren’t coming. He can’t help but wonder if what she really needs is to stop sticking to the boundaries she’s used to, the way he’s moved beyond his old conceptions of success, but… he can’t push that on her, just like he wasn’t pushed. He’d needed time to come to this decision on his own, and if that’s what she wants, she’ll do it.

“That’s how I felt. What I was doing wasn’t cutting it, and what I’m doing now is. That’s what matters, isn’t it? I’m finally back on the right track.”

“The problem is, you don’t know how far you’ll go with this. It’s working now, but it started as an accident. You said what you and Tommaso did would never happen again, but you’re doing it on your own now.”

“I’m doing it myself? Is that what you’re saying?”

“That’s not funny.” Candice huffs, shoving at his shoulder, but she’s smiling. “You know what I mean. I’m worried about you, he’s in your head.”

“Hey.“ Johnny turns to face her, as well as he can when they’re both sitting on a bench. “He’s not, I promise. This is all me, and I’m gonna make this year great for us.” He kisses her forehead, then her nose, which she wrinkles. “Starting with bugging Regal to get you more matches - you should be in that match right now, we both know it.”

“I know, right?” She sounds more tired than indignant, and he can’t blame her at this point. “It’s gonna happen. I just have to prove I have what it takes, which... you’d think they know, or they wouldn’t have signed me, but.” She sighs, and Johnny sighs with her. “Maybe you’re right...”

Whatever she would have said next is cut off by a yawn. “Babe, I really have to get back to the hotel. Just watching you tired me out. You coming?”

“Not just yet... I have to stick around and see who wins the last match.”

Candice presses her lips together, but nods. He knew she’d understand. “I’ll see you later, then. Maybe you’ll get lucky and there’ll be championship cupcakes when you get home.”

“I’ll cross my fingers for that.” They both stand, and he hugs her tightly, the championship belt clacking against her side before he remembers to let go of it. “I love you so much. I couldn’t do any of this without you.”

“I love you too. Just... take care of yourself, OK? I trust you, but you have to be careful.”

Well, that was suitably ominous, but she really doesn’t have anything to worry about. Johnny’s the best he’s ever been, no matter what anyone says, and he’s only going to get better. They kiss goodbye and Candice leaves, and Johnny picks up the title again, holding it so it reflects light onto the walls. It’s his. It’s going to _stay_ his.

After he goes back out.

He isn’t sure why he does it, not in the moment. One minute he’s watching on the monitor as Tommaso backs up the ramp, and before he can stop himself he’s walking out, title clutched in his hand. But why? To remind the NXT Universe that he won, too? To show Tommaso that he can win without him?

(To show Tommaso that he can win _with_ him?)

He still hates Tommaso - of course he does. He’s pretty sure he does. That can’t have gone away just because Tommaso has started making good points. But even so, standing next to him victorious feels _right_ , something he’s missed since before Tommaso made sure they’d never have another chance. It’s like everything fades away, and just for a minute they can be happy, separate or together.

Tommaso is wrong about Johnny, but he’s been right about Johnny too - he was right that he wanted the North American Championship, he was right that he wanted a cage match. Sometimes it feels like he knows Johnny better than Johnny knows himself. That, Johnny realizes, is why he had to come out, why he had to share this moment. To prove to Tommaso - to himself, to the audience - that he’s staking a claim he should have long ago.

Regardless of what’s happened between them, they’re the only ones who understand each other. They’re the only ones with the right to fight each other. And this? This double victory? This is what happens when they’re encouraged to fight other people: they win, and they show everyone why it’s safer to keep them contained.

So he stands, side by side with the man who’s put him in the hospital more than once, and holds his title high so the NXT Universe can see what they’re capable of.

After the fight.

Of course, then the Velveteen Dream has to come out and ruin things, like he always does. Johnny knows Dream wants his title, so it doesn’t make any sense that he starts yelling at Tommaso first - and when he steps between them, shielding Tommaso from Dream’s attack, he gets a faint feeling of satisfaction. That’s nothing, though, compared to the satisfaction that blooms when Tommaso retaliates against Dream before Johnny can even react to the slap, leaping to his defense in a way Johnny can’t quite comprehend, and never thought he’d see again.

(It’s like everything is slotting back into place, except that can’t be right, can it?)

The argument becomes a brawl becomes a fight, spilling backstage where there’s at least a measure of privacy, and of _course_ the hypocrites would side together against him, why would he expect any different? Aleister, so sure he knows how everyone should act; Ricochet, blithely offering championship matches like he doesn’t stand a chance of losing; Dream, jealous and desperate for relevance. It baffles him that he used to respect any of them, and it doesn’t surprise him that Cole and Tommaso would ally against them - they all know what it’s like to be cheated out of matches, no matter how little they might have in common otherwise.

But none of that explains why, once everyone has been separated - once even Cole has been hustled off by the rest of his group - Johnny and Tommaso find themselves next to each other in a side room, both clutching their titles, out of breath and leaning against a wall.

Why are they alone? Every time they’ve been in the same room, even surrounded by fans and referees, they’ve tried to kill each other. That they’re not trying now is a fair point, but Johnny thinks someone should at least be worried about the possibility.

Just then, Tommaso moves along the wall until their shoulders are touching. It could be an accident. It’s probably an accident. Any moment now they’re going to come to their senses and stand up straight, and if they’re _really_ smart they’ll leave the arena through different doors. But that doesn’t happen, and doesn’t happen, and Tommaso’s shoulder is warm against his, and when Johnny slides down the wall until he’s sitting on the floor, Tommaso does the same.

“Congratulations.”

Tommaso is the first to break the silence, and Johnny isn’t sure he’s heard him right, but he knows Tommaso doesn’t repeat himself. Besides, he deserves it.

“Thanks.” A long beat. “You too.”

“Well, I knew _I_ would win. But you… I’m proud of you, Johnny. That title was made for you.”

Once again, Tommaso is right. He holds it up again, tracing his fingers over the outline of the continent, and marvels at how good the weight feels in his hands.

“Candice said I could win without cheating,” he admits, hesitant and embarrassed, and Tommaso scoffs.

“That wasn’t cheating. You don’t even get disqualified for that.”

“That’s what I said! But… I know what she means. I haven’t done that… ever, I’m pretty sure. I’m doing things I never used to do. I don’t know why.”

“Because you want to win, that’s why! You said it yourself, that’s what matters this year. Wins, and championships. Well, guess what, Champ - you’ve got one of each. I’d say it’s working out for you, so far.”

Johnny can’t really deny that. Just as he can’t deny that Tommaso interfering in his promos gave him multiple opportunities to get the better of that smug, overconfident Ricochet. Even without meaning to, even while trying to cause trouble, he’d been helping Johnny. Funny how that works.

“Well… thanks. For real.” He turns his head now, and is surprised to find Tommaso already looking at him, those ice-blue eyes intent on his. It’s unnerving to be subject to that gaze for too long, and Johnny drops his eyes, hating himself for that weakness.

“You’re welcome,” Tommaso says, and his tone is almost gentle. “Can you do something for me in return?”

In return for what? Congratulating him? Accidentally helping? Johnny shakes his head. “Probably not, man. I feel like you’ll ask me to jump off a cliff if I promise.”

“No, no promises. No jumping. Just think about it. I just want you… to go out there every night and be the best Johnny Badass that you can be. I want you to prove everyone wrong, everyone who thought you were finished when we broke up. All the doubters who said you’d never get a singles title, I want you to silence them.”

“Wait, who was saying that?”

“You couldn’t hear it? It wasn’t just the crowds, but they were the loudest. No, it was half the tag teams on this brand, too. Even the ones who showed up when you were already a singles wrestler. I don’t want to start trouble, of course, but I can tell you who if you _really_ want to know.”

No, Johnny doesn’t think he does. Bad enough to know it’s being said, but if he knows the sources he’ll have no choice but to retaliate, and that hasn’t historically ended well for him. Until… tonight. Until he had someone to retaliate for him, alongside him.

“Anyway, I didn’t mean to bring all that up. I just want you to prove them wrong, like I know you can. New year, new you, right?”

“That’s right.” Johnny grins, his eyes darting back up to Tommaso’s. “2019 Johnny has a whole new plan.”

“Care to let me in on a little more of it?”

Johnny’s not that foolish, and laughs out loud. “I don’t think so. You have your own thing going, let me keep my plan. Tell me more about the audience saying I wouldn’t get a singles title, though. I never saw that.”

“Oh, it was obvious! Every time they yelled for you to hurt people, they were showing what they thought of you. They thought you were just a puppet they could force to do whatever they wanted, get as violent as their bloodlust demanded. No puppet gets championships. You can win matches without anyone else holding your strings.”

Now, for the first time in at least minutes, Johnny feels a stir of unease. “I did get violent, though. I kept… hurting people, and I didn’t always mean to. Sometimes it was like I woke up and they were on the mat, and I… didn’t remember hitting them. I was just as violent as the audience wanted me to be. I did what they wanted.”

“Johnny, Johnny, Johnny. You’re not violent, you’re _smart_. You did what you had to! Can’t win a match if your opponent’s on their feet, right? You have to get them down, who cares how that happens?” Tommaso shakes his head, an almost pitying expression on his face, and Johnny pulls back a little. “You didn’t do what they wanted. They didn’t want you to act on your own behalf. They wanted you to put on a show for them! And you didn’t do that, did you?”

“No...” Johnny relaxes somewhat. He has to admit this. “Even when they wanted me to break Dream in half, not many people seemed that happy afterwards.”

“So they thought they wanted one thing, and when you tried to give that to them, they turned on you anyway. Johnny, I hate to be a broken record about this, but what did I tell you from the start? Since I got injured, I’ve been trying to tell you: the NXT Universe doesn’t care about us. Either of us, _any_ of us. They only care about what’s fun for _them_.”

God help him, Johnny knows Tommaso’s right. The fact that he’s actually getting booed, _now_ , when he’s finally achieving his goals, proves they’ll never be satisfied. But… “What can I do about it?”

“Whatever you want! That’s the beauty of it. If all they want is what makes them happy, just do what makes _you_ happy and you don’t have to worry about them. It used to be that simple, remember?”

“Yeah...” Johnny slumps against the wall again, head tilted back. He can’t look at Tommaso and remember how simple it used to be at the same time. He’ll get confused, and that’s not something he needs now. He’s finally seeing clearly, he doesn’t need to get muddled up with old feelings.

“It was so good,” Tommaso continues, an almost dreamy tone to his voice. “Us against the world. Doing it ourselves. I guess we’re still doing that, huh?”

“You’re the one who ended it,” Johnny points out, but his voice isn’t as harsh as he wants it to be. He should be yelling, should be reminding Tommaso that this distance - metaphorical, their shoulders are still pressed together - is his fault. Should be hating him with all the energy he can muster. But he’s so _tired_.

“You’re right,” Tommaso admits, nodding his head in Johnny’s peripheral vision. “I did what you’re doing now. I did what needed to be done, to show you how fickle they are. It’s all blown up, but you understand now, don’t you? You know they’ll never accept you unless you’re exactly what they want. You’re too good to limit yourself to their expectations. We both are.”

Suddenly Tommaso is in his face - when did that happen? - kneeling in front of him. “That’s what this has always been about, Johnny. It wasn’t about hating each other. It was about knowing our worth. Together and separately, no matter what anyone says. You understand that, right?”

Johnny kisses him.

He knows he shouldn’t. He remembers Candice saying ‘Take care of yourself’, sees her resigned face when he told her he was staying, but somehow that isn’t enough to stop him. His title belt falls from his hands as he clutches at Tommaso’s shoulders, one of which still has _his_ belt draped over it, and it feels like everything makes sense again.

That lasts for all of a minute before he pushes Tommaso away, horrified at himself. “Wait, I can’t-- we can’t do this. I have--”

To Tommaso’s credit, and to Johnny’s surprise, he breaks contact and sits back cross-legged. “You’re right. I can’t kneel for that long, anyway.”

Johnny shocks himself by laughing, and covers his mouth. “That’s not what I meant! I can’t… this is… Candice.” He clings to her name like a drowning man, feeling more sure of himself as he goes. “You know how this works. You _know_ we have to check in with each other. She’d never be OK with this, I can’t do that to her.”

 _But what are you really doing?_ asks a strangely familiar voice in his head. _This isn’t new. She’s not approving a partner. You’re just picking up where you left off._

“She wouldn’t understand,” he mutters, to both himself and Tommaso. That’s the crux of it. He understands, now, what Tommaso was trying to do. He still hates it, still gets twinges in his neck on cold days from Tommaso’s ‘intervention’, but it makes _sense_. Candice clearly still doesn’t agree, though. And she’d told him to be careful.

“I don’t know about that. I think she’s more understanding than you give her credit for. She put up with the two of us before, didn’t she?”

“Yeah… she sure did.” Johnny laughs ruefully, shaking his head. “She just… I wish I could help her see. Why I’m doing what I have to do, all of it. I know she wants me to succeed, I want that for her too! But she still thinks I can do it the old way, and that… Sorry, that’s not what we were talking about.”

“No, I think it is. I think that _you_ think that as long as she doesn’t understand what you’re doing, she won’t understand-” he gestures between the two of them- “this.”

“Is there a ‘this’?”

“Don’t you want there to be?”

Yes. Johnny does. He remembers everything Tommaso has put him through, every hospital visit and sleepless night and discarded memento, but he also remembers every kiss, every moment of camaraderie, every time he and Candice and Tommaso had dinner together and loved each other and were happy. He’s missed that this whole time, even under the hate and pain, and he’s so _tired_ of missing it. He wants it back.

His nod is barely visible at first, but he can’t seem to stop, nodding and looking back up at Tommaso’s face to try to see what he can find there. Tommaso has been right all along, and he’s right now - it just took Johnny too long to see it.

“I really do. I… yeah, I do want there to be a ‘this’. I just...” He sighs, but doesn’t look away. “I don’t know what she’d think.”

Tommaso stands, angling his leg awkwardly without a wall for balance, and holds out a hand to help Johnny up. After a moment of hesitation, Johnny takes it and lets himself be pulled up and into Tommaso’s arms, their foreheads pressed together. They stay like that, quiet and still, for a long time before Tommaso speaks again.

“I know you don’t want to hurt her. I don’t blame you. But don’t you think she wants you to be happy?”

“I...”

“She knows you better than almost anyone, except maybe me. You think she doesn’t know you want this? It’s been _so long_ , Johnny. You really think she wants you to stay bitter and distant?”

Bitter? Is he bitter? He doesn’t think so… but it’s hard to find words for his thoughts when Tommaso’s arms are back around him after so long, when the warmth he’s been missing has come back to him. When the mouth he’s missed more than anything keeps saying things, quiet things, that make sense even if he’d never thought about them before. Tommaso’s right. Of course he is.

“We both missed you, you know. Not just me. She was… it was worse for her, I think, because you barely even talked to her. You talked to me, you put me in a freaking _neck brace_ , but Candice just… had to listen. I think she hated you for not fighting her too. It was like you didn’t even care enough to make it personal.”

Tommaso is quiet for a long moment, rubbing Johnny’s back. When he does speak again, his voice sounds strange, unsteady. “I didn’t think of it like that. I was trying to leave her out of it.”

“Out of what?” Johnny asks, his voice sharper than he intends. “Out of attacking me?”

“No! No, that’s not what I--” Tommaso shakes his head, his breathing coming more quickly as he tries to explain. “I knew I had to help you by pushing you to your limits. I don’t think Candice _has_ limits, no offense.”

“None taken,” Johnny murmurs, because he isn’t wrong.

“I knew… that what I did would hurt you. Confuse you. I didn’t want to, but I couldn’t see any other way to convince you of what I’d been trying to tell you - and I was right, wasn’t I?” He waits for Johnny’s nod before continuing. “I knew you’d understand eventually, but trying to convince both of you at once would make it look too personal.”

“Felt pretty personal. Felt like you hated us. You didn’t even say goodbye when you moved out.” They’re still hugging, and Johnny doesn’t want to let go. He wants to understand even more than he already does, and he wants to help Candice understand, but he needs Tommaso to explain first. There are questions they’ve never been able to answer without his input.

“I know… I know. I didn’t think anything would be helped by having a conversation we’d had a million times before. Maybe I was wrong.”

This is the first time Tommaso has admitted, in his own words, to mistakes or wrongdoing, and that alone reassures Johnny. If he can do that, there’s more common ground than there seems to be.

“No… you probably have a point. I hate to admit it, though. It hurt a _lot_.”

“I know,” Tommaso says again. “But look what you got out of it. You never had this drive before, you know? You had ideals and talent, but that anger, that awareness of the hypocrisy around you, that’s what you needed to succeed. You take what you want, no matter who gets in your way. I’m so proud of you.”

“I take what I want, huh?” Johnny looks up from where his head has been resting on Tommaso’s shoulder, grinning at him. “You’re right. I do. I’m done with letting anyone stop me, especially when they don’t even know me.” Tommaso knows him. Tommaso has always known him better than he knows himself. For once - _finally_ \- he isn’t the person in Johnny’s way.

He steps back, looking at Tommaso with new eyes. Their titles are both on the floor, and Johnny realizes suddenly that this is the first time since he inter-- Since Tommaso won the title that he’s seen him without it. He cuts off that line of thinking, that desperation he had felt, and focuses on the present. Tommaso still looks good. He hasn’t let himself think that for a long time, but it’s still true.

“I’ll talk to Candice. You should talk to her too, you know. Even if… I don’t know if you can fix what you guys had, but she’d at least appreciate that.”

Tommaso nods. “I should. She and I still have a lot in common, I’m sure she’ll come around. Eventually.”

“And in the meantime, we can keep winning and not care what anyone else thinks. Just like before.”

“Just like before.” Tommaso’s grin is almost shy, and Johnny doesn’t know what to do with that.

He reaches down to pick up his title, dusting it off a little from where it had lain on the carpet, and heads for the door with no preamble. When he reaches it, though, he turns back to look at Tommaso, who almost looks stunned that he’s leaving. Maintaining eye contact, Johnny reaches for the doorknob and turns the lock.

The title he leaves on a chair near the door, and then he’s back across the room before he can think to stop himself, pressing Tommaso against the wall and kissing him again. He has the weight of nearly two years behind him, and when Tommaso wraps his arms around his neck he almost chokes on a gasp because he’d missed this _so much_ , even more than he’d realized. It’s just like before and yet not at all, because there’s an urgency, a desperation to it.

He wishes he could take forever kissing Tommaso, running his hands over muscle definition he had developed while rehabbing, that Johnny has only ever touched in anger. But the show is over and the arena has to close eventually, so they don’t have time for nearly the full range of what he wants to do to Tommaso, now that he can. Just kissing, but kissing is more than enough when it means Tommaso grazes his teeth across Johnny’s lips, then across his tongue when he opens his mouth to groan.

“You have no idea,” Tommaso growls against his mouth, “what I want to do to you,” and Johnny laughs in delight.

“I was just thinking the same thing. I missed you, I missed… everything.” He rests their foreheads together, his breath coming quickly, and can’t quite stop himself from rolling his hips against Tommaso’s.

“I missed you too.” Tommaso tips his head back so it nearly thuds against the wall, his eyes closing. “We don’t have much time, we can’t do… shit, we can’t do anything. We have to leave or they’ll lock us in.”

They’re having the same thoughts, the same reactions, and it makes Johnny’s heart sing, but he doesn’t want to give up that easily. Even after he explains this to Candice, after he proves she was right to trust him to take care of himself, they’ll hardly have any time alone in between shows and travel, and he can’t stand the thought of waiting after so long.

“We can make it quick,” he offers, pressing more insistently against Tommaso. They’re both still in their gear, and you can barely even get hard under compression briefs, but he’s willing to make the effort. It would be easy enough to reach between them and get his hand down the front of Tommaso’s trunks, or - better - push them down entirely. They’ve done this before, after all, and although Tommaso might have changed, Johnny’s pretty sure he still knows what he likes.

“I like the way you think, but--” Now Tommaso’s the one rocking his hips up, contradicting his own tone, and Johnny grins and presses their mouths together again. He manages to inch his fingers past the back of Tommaso’s trunks, but finds himself being swept around until his own back is against the wall, Tommaso pinning him in place.

“ _But_ ,” Tommaso continues, like that’s not where Johnny’s hand is right now, “I really think this would be better in a bed, don’t you?”

‘Better’ doesn’t mean much when this is already more than Johnny could ever have expected, and he says as much through gasps as Tommaso continues to press against him. Especially since they can’t get to a bed tonight, and he and Candice will be too busy with their respective Royal Rumble matches tomorrow to have a conversation, let alone privacy. Tommaso isn’t even making his case very well, Johnny thinks vaguely, as Tommaso bites at his earlobe and trails kisses down his neck.

“Think about it, Johnny. All this, but in a bed. As good as this, but with time and room to spread out. Now, wouldn’t you say that’s better?”

“I-- Yeah, you’re... probably right. You’re making it... really hard to wait, though.”

“Good.” Tommaso grins up at him from where he’s been mouthing at the base of Johnny’s throat. “Keep that fire for when we get back to Orlando.” He spiders his hand up Johnny’s back, the touches fleeting but still sending a thrill to the one part of his body Johnny is steadfastly trying to ignore. He can’t help but groan, arching his back towards Tommaso, and then the groan is words before he’s aware of himself.

“I lo-”

But he stifles himself with a hand to his mouth, sinking his teeth in to cut off anything else.

Because of course he does. He never stopped.

He pulls back as far as he can, panting, ignoring that he’s trapped Tommaso’s hand against the wall. He has to get a grip, has to focus on the reason they’re waiting, has to _not_ start that conversation right now.

“I--” He starts, but falters to a stop at the look on Tommaso’s face. He’s seen plenty of triumphant smiles from Tommaso over the years, especially the last few months, but this… This is softer than usual. Gentle. There’s no hardness to his eyes, and his teeth aren’t visible at all - just a quirk of his lips and raised eyebrows to indicate that he knows exactly what Johnny means. Whether that’s better or worse, Johnny isn’t sure.

“You know,” Tommaso continues conversationally, blessedly ignoring that slip entirely, “I _really_ want to blow you. But… like I said before, I can’t kneel that long. You definitely get a rain check on it, though. Assuming you want it.”

“Are you--” His voice comes out high and needy, and he laughs at himself before clearing his throat. “Are you kidding? Do I want you to blow me, is that really a question?”

Tommaso laughs low in his throat and nods in concession. “Fair point. Just thought I’d check.”

“If you check any more, we’re gonna be stuck here all night and not be able to do _anything_ , because the security sensors’ll be on.”

“You’re right. You’re right, we need to get going.”

“Sure, as soon as I can walk again.” Johnny pulls his hand out of Tommaso’s trunks, moving in the process so Tommaso can retrieve his hand from under Johnny’s shirt. He doesn’t know how they’re gonna manage the locker room without awkward looks, but maybe they’ll get lucky and everyone else will have left already.

After all that...

They’re all in the same hotel, at least until tomorrow, but different schedules and rentals and phones mean they’ve made their way back separately. Johnny spends the entire drive wondering what he’s going to tell Candice, if she’s even still awake. She trusts him, she said. She trusts him to do the right thing, and to take care of himself, and he knows he can get her to understand this new - old - thing between Tommaso and himself. He knows. He just doesn’t know _how_.

He doesn’t see Tommaso in the parking deck or on the way up to his and Candice’s room, which is for the best. He doesn’t need more delays; he has a big day tomorrow, almost as big as today was. Bigger, maybe, if he wins. He doesn’t want to think about that, or he’ll psych himself out.

Entering the room as quietly as possible, he sees Candice bundled up in bed with - as she’d hinted - a grocery package of cupcakes on the side table, and he feels himself smiling so broadly it almost hurts. If they’d been home, she would have made them herself, so having gone to the effort just to give him victory pastries on the road touches his heart. He really doesn’t deserve her.

He’d showered - briefly, almost panicking for time - at the arena, so it’s the work of minutes to rummage through his suitcase for his night clothes and change into them. He tries not to make any noise as he does so, but he can hear Candice murmuring a few times and suspects she’s trying not to wake up.

“Mm, hey.” She finally stirs as he slips into bed, turning to face him even as she blinks her eyes open. “I caught the end of the show, are you OK?”

“I’m fine,” he assures her, settling under the covers. “No one was really hurt, just a lot of big egos.”

Candice looks at him skeptically, then raises her eyebrows. “That’s good to know, but it’s not really what I meant? Did you and Tommaso...”

Oh.

Wait. What is she actually asking?

“We… talked a little, after that. I think we understand each other better now.”

“You talked.” Her voice is flat, but her eyebrows are still raised, so he’s still not sure what she’s getting at. Maybe they’re too sleepy for this conversation, after all. “I asked you to be careful. Were you?”

“I was!” he assures her, reaching out to tuck back a lock of hair that’s fallen over her face. “Nothing bad happened, I promise. No fighting, but no blood pacts either. We’re working things out.”

“That’s good...” She yawns, snuggling further under the blankets, and smiles up at him. “We can talk about what you worked out tomorrow, ‘kay?”

“Sounds good to me.” He kisses her nose, but she’s already falling back to sleep, and he can’t blame her.

They do have to talk tomorrow. But they both have big matches, too, with bigger stakes than either of them are used to, and they’ll need to focus.

They can talk about it after the show.


End file.
